


Sometimes It Takes A Curse

by NightSwan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightSwan/pseuds/NightSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean get hit with a curse and find themselves, quite literally, wearing each others shoes. Bodyswap!Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes It Takes A Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Sinful-Desires under Sammy926. Thanks goes to Starlight for the great Beta job.

Something always goes wrong when you’re hunting a coven of witches. _Always_. There is never a time when you can just barge in and snap your fingers and the whole matter is taken care of. Well OK, Gabriel probably could, and he’d be the only one to actually snap his fingers, but that’s not the point, considering angels are just dicks with wings. Even though witches are human, they are almost as bad as demons, Dean thinks, especially the curses. Oh, some aren’t that bad, the sex ones for sure, but the others? Deadly, nasty, filthy curses.

Oh, and it’s always the deadly ones, too. Witches never want to humor the brothers with something with a not-so-bad curse… Never. But, can’t really blame them, all hunters want to do is break up covens and that tends to just piss them off. Badly.

So yeah, Dean hates witches. Witches hate Dean.

But that’s just life. Or Dean’s life, anyway.

“Dean, Oh my god, are you OK?” Dean is just barely able to register Sam’s voice. It’s calming and soothing to his ears, something he’d never admit out loud, _thankyouverymuch._

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine Sammy.” Dean tries to say but all that comes out are some muffled noises that aren’t really intelligible. Damn, he _really_ hates witches.

“Don’t move, OK? I got you.” Sam sounds panicked, but tries to reassure Dean. “Just… don’t move.”

Dean realizes that his eyes are still shut, and they feel heavy like weights are pressed against his eyes, making it harder and harder for him to try and break free of the heaviness. He forces himself to open them, fighting the pressure that he feels. And to his relief, he’s able to blink and see through half open eyelids.

Even with his eyes open he doesn’t really see much, but he notices that he’s back at the motel. He can see a faint glow in the corner of the room coming from the nightstand.

“Dean, you can’t move yet.” Sam’s hand stays on Dean’s shoulder and where Sam touches him feels hot. It’s another sensation he _won’t_ admit.

“Why?” He finally manages to say without muffled words.

He hears Sam sigh, “We got hit with a spell, I came to before you did. But it looks like your having more trouble with it.”

“Fucking great.” Without moving too much, he tries to shift his gaze to meet Sam’s, and they hold it for nearly a minute. “Why am I in worse shape then you then if we both got hit?” Because, really? That just wasn’t fair. If Dean has to lie there motionless then Sam should be suffering as well. It’d only be fair.

“You tried to block the spell from hitting me remember? Well, it mostly hit you, but… I got hit with it too.”

“Remind me to just let it hit you next time.” He tries to chuckle but it just comes out half-assed when he groans in pain at the movement.

“Yeah, whatever Dean.” Dean can hear the eye roll in that; he doesn’t even have to look to know.

“Did we get them?”

“Not really… they kinda got away after we got hit with the spell… I had to drag you back to the car.” Sam lets out a frustrated laugh, “Dude, your heavy.” He laughs again and then says, “OK, I’m gonna… uh, lift you up slowly?” Before Dean can reply Sam slides a hand underneath Dean’s back and brings him up cautiously into a sitting position. His head begins to thud and a dull headache begins.

“So, should I even ask what the spell was?” Dean asks dejectedly, “Are we gonna be coughing up our spleens any minute?”

“No spleen coughing.” Sam grins then his face falls a little then averted his gaze.

“Sam?”

“It’s just, I’m not really sure what it is… but I called Bobby and he told me we should head out his way just in case something happens.” He paused, “We’re lucky we’re only a couple hours away, if we head out soon we can get there before midnight.”

“Yeah, OK, give me a minute…” Dean lets his head fall back against the head board and thinks, _this is gonna be a long night._

Not long after they've packed their bags and are hitting the open road.

\---

“You two sure know how to get on my nerves,” Bobby declares, arms folded across his chest when they arrive at his place.

“Nice to see you too Bobby,” Dean says as he walks into the hunter's house.

“Hey Bobby.” Sam greets as he follows closely behind Dean.

Bobby rolls his eyes and lets the door slam shut behind them. He wishes these boys would be able to stay out of trouble for just one goddamn day.

But that's just his luck.

\---

“You two boys are the luckiest nitwits I’ve ever seen,” Bobby sighs, “I’ve done all the tests I can do without rippin’ ya apart to see the damage that spell coulda done.”

Dean frowns, “So what does that mean? We got away Scott free? Considering the massive headache I had getting here, I highly doubt it.”

“Don’t get smart with me boy, I’m just tryin’ to help.”

“You did hit the pavement kinda hard Dean, that’s probably where the headache came from.” Sam says as he eyes one of Bobby’s old books on the table.

“Oh thanks Sam, now you’re a doctor?”

Sam gives his best bitch-face look as a response and looks back at the book. “Is this a spell book?” He opens it and starts flipping through pages.

“Yeah, but I didn’t see anything in there useful.” Bobby scratches the back of his neck, “But be my guest, a second pair of eyes always helps.”

Sam glances up and says, “Thanks Bobby.”

Sam had known the moment they got him with the spell that it was some powerful dark magic. The way the witch spoke her words with such fire and amusement in her voice made it seem like she was just _playing_ with them. And that thought makes him shiver.

He looks at Dean using his peripheral vision and feels guilty. It was all because Sam couldn’t come through in the end that got them hit with the spell. If only he could have taken the witch down faster none of this would have happened.

He hears the sound of a clock tick nearby and notices it's nearly midnight. He shifts his attention back to the spell book but can’t keep his concentration. All he can hear is the ticking getting louder and louder.

The book feels heavy in his hand.and his eyes lose focus.

 _Concentrate_ , he tells himself.

The swaying of the pendulum is the last thing he remembers as he hears Bobby call out his and Dean’s name.

And then it all goes dark.

\---

Dean had held inappropriate feelings for Sam for what felt to him like forever, long before he even knew what those feelings were. And once he realized the brotherly love wasn’t all just brotherly, well, he just had to shove those thoughts deep down and lock them away.

That just wasn’t something he is going to touch with a ten foot poll, no scratch that, something he’d never even _consider_ touching with a ten foot poll. It is probably crazy to even think about Sam reciprocating.

Even with all the hard work he devoted to _not_ thinking those thoughts, or _not_ glancing at Sam when he thought he wasn’t looking. All those times he’d _‘accidentally’_ walk in on Sam getting changed - well, OK yeah, the last part he totally did that on purpose. He found himself really hating God for the predicament he is in now.

 _Really_ hates him.

“This so isn’t awkward.” Dean says, but it isn't with his own baritone voice he wants to use.

And when Dean looks up, he is looking at his own face giving the death glare back across the table.

“What? I feel like a fucking tree every time I stand up, hell, I think I’m gonna sway over if I’m not careful.”

His own lips presses into a thin line. It really wasn’t becoming.

He’d have to remember that.

“OK, calm down, uh, Dean.” Bobby says as he looks between the two men. “Tell me what the hell is going on, again, because this really doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ve switched bodies.” Sam looks up using Dean’s face. “We nearly killed each other this morning when we woke up. We both thought the other was a shapeshifter or something.”

“Yeah, until it was obvious we weren’t in our own bodies.” Dean says. “That witch really should have thought of something more dangerous. I mean, what’s the point? Besides driving each other crazy.”

“That might have been the point, Dean. I’ve been thinking… She seemed to having more fun then really trying to harm us.”

“Well whatever the hell she did, you both should be thankful.” Bobby says as he pours himself some coffee and sits down at the table with them, “I thought I was gonna have to pick up your pieces, literally, when you two fell down. You were having some sorta spasm attack right in front of me.” He grimaces, “Then I had to drag your heavy asses to bed. I swear to God if you pull shit like that again on me you’ll have more than witches to worry about idgits.”

“Yes sir,” Both boys gulp.

“Good... Coffee?”

\---

“Man, I shouldn’t have drank so much coffee…” Dean grumbles to himself as he stares down at the toilet like it's going to bite him. Being in Sam’s body is… well, weird. He spends so long trying to resist from touching Sam, and now he's quite literally wearing him.

He murmurs some brief apologies before he unzips his pants and reaches down and takes hold of Sam’s thing… Oh god, he can't even pee properly without having dirty thoughts.

This, he thinks, is going to be a painful experience.

“Dude what took you so long?” Sam says as Dean climbs into the front seat of his Impala.

“What? Nothing. Let’s just go.” Dean turns the key in the ignition and hears his baby purr to life, and lets the sound ease his worries.

“Uh huh, don’t do anything inappropriate with my body, Dean.” Sam punches him playfully but all Dean can do is let out a nervous chuckle while his cheeks reddened.

“OK… So, since we know we’re not dyin’ where we headin’? Another hunt?” Dean asks as he eyes Sam – or himself rather – looking at a map open across his lap.

“Yeah, there’s one just about a hundred miles out. We can take care of it and come back before this evening.” He pauses then frowns, “How long do you think we’ll be stuck like this?”

Dean sighs as he turns towards the highway, “Honestly, I have no idea. But I want my body back.”

Sam laughs, “I think I should be offended, but I gotta agree. It’s weird being you.”

“Don’t I know it.”

\---

“Dig faster Sam!” Dean yells out as the ghost starts to maul him, clawing with as much fury as it can muster. Dean grabs his iron rod and swings, temporarily stopping the ghost and making him vanish in a haze of vapor. “Seriously, if you want your body back undamaged I’d pick up the pace!” He sees the ghost appear beside him, and swings again.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” Dean hears shovel hit wood, and he prays (or more like hopes) that Sam will hurry the hell up.

They are working a case in an old graveyard that had headstones made before the civil war and are all collapsing. It is abandoned enough during the day to dig up the grave and salt and burn the bones and still go unnoticed.

The ghost smiles wickedly and lunges towards Dean again; Dean takes a step, prepared to strike when he stumbles and lands on his ass in the wet grass.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, being in Sam’s body is now a damn life threat. He throws his arms up just in time to see the ghost go up in flames in a screaming mess.

He stars at the empty spot where the ghost was a minute ago and huffs a sigh of relief.

“Dean?” He hears Sam call from behind him and looks up just in time too see Sam make his way over. As soon as Sam sees Dean on the ground he cracks a smile.

Dean holds out his hand to stop him from speaking then says, “Don’t.”

Sam lets out a snort, “Yeah, cause apparently you can’t even stand properly as me.”

“Like I said, you’re like a tree. I can’t help it you’re Mister Ginormo.” He pauses then stares at Sam a moment, “You gonna help me up or not? I’m starving, and it’s time for lunch.”

Sam’s eyes rolls in annoyance but helps him up anyways.

\---

Shortly after they find themselves sitting in a booth at the local diner. Sam's starring at the menu when Dean reaches over and grabs it from his hands and says, “OK, I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Uh-huh? What’s that?” Sam reaches over and tries to pry the menu from Dean’s hand but Dean lifts it out of reach. Huh, seems Dean can find a use for his long limbs.

Figures it would be to tutor him.

“OK, Dean, what?” Sam says half frustrated and half amused.

“I will let you eat your healthy crap if you let me eat a bacon cheeseburger… with fries.” He adds.

“What? No way, that stuff is a heart attack on a platter.”

“Oh, come on, don’t make me beg.” Dean does his best impression of Sam’s puppy-dog-eyes.

“You know I’m immune to my _own_ look, right?” Sam says leaning back and crossing his arms, “OK, you can have the… cheeseburger, but no fries.”

“Gotta have my fries man.”

A moment passes, then two… “Fine, but you’re having a salad.” He points at the menu, “Now I want that back.”

A young lady walks up and takes their orders, while keeping her eyes mainly focused on Dean and blushing when their eyes meet.

She walks away a moment later and something inside Sam’s stomach knots into an unknown feeling. It was _his_ body she was oogling, but instead of feeling amused or proud, he could have sworn it was…. jealousy.

Sam stares at Dean a moment longer, seeing the differences in his body. Even with Sam’s face he can still see the Dean in him, with the small grin or the way he holds himself. It's all Dean.

And for some reason, he realizes that he really likes being with Dean, even more then he’d like to admit. There's just something about Dean that drives him crazy, but at the same time makes him happier then he’s ever been in his life.

Something flips in his chest.

He purses his lips in annoyance. He knows what this feeling is.

He doesn't like it.

\---

The trip back to Bobby’s is longer then Dean expects. Sam's sitting next to him in silence and every time Dean tries to strike up a conversation, Sam gives short one-word answers as a response.

Sam seemed to get especially frustrated when Dean brought up the chick in the diner that was oh-so-obviously lusting over Sam’s bod. He nearly snapped Dean’s head off on that one.

So instead of trying to talk his way through almost two hours on the road, Dean just cranks up the volume, and lets the classic music speak for them.

\---

Once they finally make it back to Bobby’s Sam trudges his way up the steps and slams the door behind him leaving Dean behind to wonder what the hell he did wrong this time.

It wasn’t the fries was it? Because Sam agreed to that one, he couldn’t be mad he ate some freakin’ fries.

“What the hell’s wrong with Sam? He stormed in here saying you were a jerk.” Bobby says a moment after Dean found his way into the house. “You really pissed him off this time, son.”

“Yeah, I think it’s ‘cause I ate the fries.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose.

Bobby stares at him like he's nuts, and that might be true, “What?”

Dean just shrugs.

“… Anyways, I wanted to tell ya you’re welcome to stay as long as you need till your crazy body swapping magic disappears. But not a moment longer, ya hear?”

“Wouldn’t want to impose.” Dean grins.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Dean sighs then says, “I’m gonna go talk to him.” He takes a step then turns back and smirks, “You hear me hit the floor, you come runnin’ and I don’t care if you mess up my pretty face. Sam’ll deserve it.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure you’ll still be saying that _after_ you get your body back.”

“Whatever works.” He says with a shrug, then takes the stairs two at a time. And, wow, that is so much easier in Sam’s body.

He reaches the door and holds his breath a second before knocking, and without waiting for a reply enters.

“Jesus, knock much?” Sam greets him with a scrawl that looks odd on Dean’s face. He's sitting on the bed flipping threw the same spell book that he had yesterday.

Dean looks at the book and narrows his eyes, “What are you doing?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Trying to see if there’s a way to break the curse, obviously.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“It’s not about you,” Sam snaps, “I just want my body back.”

“Then why the attitude?”

“Because I don’t want to be _you_ , right now. I want to be me. I thought I was clear on that.”

Dean flinches. “Yeah? Well, I’m sorry it sucks being me. But you know what? I think you’re just sulking.” Dean breathes in and his voice rises, “But you can take that crabby attitude and shove it!”

Sam eyes grow wide for a moment before they grow dark, “Stop being a jerk, Dean.”

“Stop being a bitch then!”

Before Sam can respond Dean storms off and passes Bobby who looks at him wearily and Dean gives Bobby the eyes that says ‘I don’t want to talk about it, leave me the hell alone’ and stomps his way out to the junkyard.

He paces his way through the old junk cars that are all starting to rust due to neglect, and isn’t that just fitting? He can almost empathize with them, the way he feels now. Not necessarily neglected, but the feeling is similar.

Alone.

God, now he pities himself. This day couldn’t get much worse.

“Hello, De-... Sam?” says a low gravelly voice from behind him.

Apparently it can get worse. Great.

The man looks around for a moment, then back at Dean eyes narrowed as if he's looking into him, into his soul, and he probably is. “Dean?”

 

“Yeah, It’s me. Our bodies are sort of mixed up at the moment. Witch’s spell.” Dean sighs, “What do you want Cas?”

“It appears I have come at a bad time. My apologies.”

“Unless you can fix this…” He trails off.

“No, Dean, I’m sorry. I cannot break it, with… my limitations… at the moment, I seem to be rather useless.”

“You and me both.” Dean lets out a half-assed laugh. “Look, now’s not a good time… I’m not really in a good mood.”

Cas stared at him a moment, then looks like he is contemplating something. “Would it… help to talk about it? I have heard that is the best solution to a problem.”

“Yeah, I’m not having a heart-to-heart with anyone, ‘specially not an angel.”

Castiel simply nods and actually _smiles_ , “I had a feeling.” Then his eyes shift from Dean’s towards the sky and he pauses, shoulders going tense, and then glances back at Dean. “I must go.”

 _Figures_ , Dean thinks, but says, “See ya around.”

Castiel turns his back on Dean to go, but then looks over a shoulder, “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“That curse is… soul deep. Remember that.” Then the angel fucking smiles _again_. And before Dean can try and get any more information from him, he is gone.

Need it be repeated? Dicks with wings.

 _Figures._

\---

Dean walks back into the kitchen a minute later, and sees both Bobby and Sam sitting down at the table. Dean flinches when he sees Sam, because that just isn’t something he wants to think of at the moment.

Bobby eyes Sam with an intensity that makes Dean glad those eyes aren’t glaring at him… well technically they are, but that wasn’t the point.

“I think Sam here needs to talk to you.” Bobby says keeping his eyes on Sam. Sam finds a rather interesting spot on the table to look at, never glancing up to meet Dean or Bobby’s eyes.

Bobby sighs then stands, “I’m just gonna let myself out for a few minutes. You two girls kiss and make up.”

“I’m not kissing him,” the brothers say in unison.

“It’s just a saying, you nitwits. I wouldn’t expect that of you two anyhow.” Bobby says and Dean twitches, and if he wasn’t mistaken so did Sam. “Now I’m hightailing it outa here before the whole place crashes down on both ya’lls misery.” He grabs his jacket and a set of keys and adds, “And when I come back, this bitchin’ between you two better be over.”

“Yes, Bobby.” Sam tries to say but is interrupted by the door slamming shut.

It takes nearly a minute for Sam to meet Dean’s eyes, “What Sam?”

Sam glances back up and says nonchalantly, “Nothing.”

“Bull.”

Sam huffs, “I just, can’t talk about it.”

“Unless you think you can lie to Bobby, I’d suggest you spill. Now.” Dean steps closer, “I can take it, dish.” Another step and he's looking down into his own face. If he weren’t so mad at Sam he’d find this sort of funny. How he's yelling at himself.

Sam closes his eyes and takes a breath and glares at him before saying, “I don’t know how to tell you without you freaking out.”

“Sammy…” Dean shakes his head, then grips the bridge of his nose and holds a hand to his hip. “Please?”

Dean watches Sam’s face, or rather his face becomes beet red. And if that isn’t weird the next words out of his mouth are even stranger.

“I…” Sam scratched the back of his neck in a nervous jitter, “I… like you?”

Dean blinks, once, twice, then a third time just for the heck of it. And not letting his heart – or mind – think too far ahead. Because that could just ruin everything if he thought too much into this.

“Of course. I like you too.”

He sees Sam’s face flicker in annoyance, before he says, “Not like that.”

Oh. _Oh._

Dean’s breath hitches, “You mean, you _like_ me?” Sam nods, and because Dean can be an ass, he says, “I’m your brother, and I’m in your body, and you _like_ me.”

If it were physically possible he’d be kicking himself right now.

Sam’s face drops, “Yeah, I think the circumstances are a little weird. But you asked, I told.” He stands up, “Now I’m gonna go.”

Without thinking, Dean reaches his hand out and grabs Sam by the arm before he can walk off, “Wait…”

Sam lets out a faint noise, like a wounded animal. “What, Dean?”

“Don’t go… just wait a moment.” He drops his grip on Sam’s arm and holds his breath trying to get the nerve up to say what he wants to say. And not because what he was going to say was going to be completely girly and would count as a chick-flick-moment in his book, but because it took everything he had to let out something he’d been held in for so long.

“Dean…” Sam nearly whispers.

“Just, a moment.” One last breath and he meets Sam’s eyes, “I like you too. I have for a while.”

“Yeah, uh huh.” Sam huffs in a some-what-of-a-laugh. “I know you’ll do anything for me man, but Dean? Don’t do that. It’ll only hurt me worse.”

Dean glares at him at that one, “I wouldn’t lie about this Sam. I’ve…. _Fuck_ … I’ve always liked you, like for all my fucking life. I mean, yeah, I thought I had something with Cassie, and Lisa is a great girl. But… Sam? They’re not you. They never will be. So I like my little brother, I… love…” –and it took everything in him to say the L word – “you.” He breaks his eye contact when he is through basically pouring his heart out.

There is a loud rushing in his ears, like his blood is going a hundred miles per minute and doesn't know how to slow down. Then there is silence as he waits for a response.

A faint “Really?” is barely addible but he hears it anyways.

“Yeah, but if you repeat that to even a goddamn cricket, you’ll be dead to me.” Because this… this chick-flick moment, is _not_ to be repeated. “

“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect anything less… Dean?”

“Yes?”

“Um… can I kiss you? I know it’ll be weird, you know, kissing ourselves, but I want to. You know… kiss. If that’s fine with you.” Sam rushes his words.

Dean doesn't even need to think on that one, “Oh, fuck yeah.”

And yes, it most definitely is an odd feeling kissing his own lips, tasting himself as he deepens the kiss slowly. He hears Sam let out a faint breath that caresses his cheek before it makes its way to his ear. He returns the favor by licking at Sam’s bottom lip, making the other man shiver.

Dean lets his eyes slide shut before he breaks apart with a smile. “We’re never gonna get a second chance at that in our lifetime.”

“Probably not.” Sam says with half lidded eyes. He reaches up to cup the back of Dean’s head and brought him down into another slow kiss.

Time slows, every noise that is made is echoed into each others ears. Slow and meticulous. Never ending. The sound of cotton brushed against skin is louder then it should be or the way that a sigh seemed to linger for moments to long.

A car outside pulses by, drowning out other noises… A soft beat of a stereo is pounding in their ears. Breathe in and out, Dean tells himself, concentrate.

This is more important, this moment between them. It's something that shouldn’t be disturbed.

The pounding grows louder, breezing past and catching their attention. Then it slows to a methodical buzz.

 _Just concentrate._

Then nothing. All goes silent.

\---

“Oh for cryin’ out loud, how many times are you two going to pass out?” A voice rings in Dean’s ear and for a second he can't put a face to the voice, with the hammering feeling throbbing at the base of his neck.

Damn, that is going to hurt later.

“Bobby?” Dean says, and for the fist time in what feels like ages, he sounds like himself.

“Yeah, you idgit. Now get off my floor and take your brother with you.” Dean opens his eyes and meets Bobby’s. Then Dean smiles.

“I’m back.” He says a bit to enthusiastically as he tries to jump up and lets out a grunt of pain as the throbbing gets worse when he stands.

“I figured when I saw you two yahoo’s floodin’ my floor. Unless you meant to sleep like that.” Bobby pushes through and steps over Sam towards his own room. “Now, unless you want Sam pissed at you for leaving him on the floor, I’d suggest you move him.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

“Oh, and Dean?” Bobby says as he hangs up his jacket and throws his keys on the table.

“Huh?”

“Not in my house.”

Dean raises an eyebrow but says, “ _Right_.”

\---

“He said that?” Sam asks as they pull into a motel not far from Bobby’s place.

“Yup.”

“Think he knows?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. But, my guess? I’d say yeah.”

“Wow. Weird.”

Dean chuckles, “There’s been weirder…”

“Yeah, not by much.” Sam’s nose wrinkles into a face.

“Let’s just not worry about it right now Sammy.” Dean puts the car in park and pulls the key from the ignition. Then he reaches around in his seat to get to the duffel bag in the back, the one he knows held the lube.

He sees Sam gulp, but then nods at an unheard question.

Are they actually going to do this? Yes. Yes they are.

\---

“I so wanted to hit that guy at the desk, did you see his face? I should go back there right now and hit him.” Dean practically yells.

“Yeah, no Dean.” Sam rolls his eyes and shrugs, “Some people are homophobes. And he probably had good reason to look terrified, considering… brothers and all.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“My point, he shouldn’t.” Sam walks into the room with the single bed, and yeah, they are actually here. “Now stop talking about the damn guy.”

Sam hears a soft “Hmmph” sound but lets it go.

With the door shut behind them, Sam turns to face Dean. “So…”

Dean takes a step closer, “So…”

Sam doesn't know why he does it, but he closes his eyes. And waits. Like a freaking girl. Damn.

He doesn't have to think much longer as warm lips press against his, soft and tender at first. Then within a matter of a moment, their teeth are clashing in a bitter fight to out do the other. Somewhere between pants and gasps, tongue get involved. Dean pushes his into Sam’s mouth, all need and want. Sam gives just as much need back to Dean, feeling every spark that runs down his body and treasuring it.

Somewhere fire is burning between them.

Dean trails his tongue slowly down Sam’s features, sucking and tasting as he goes. He stops momentarily to give notice to the spot between shoulder and neck. Sam gives a short gasp when Dean sinks his teeth in slowly, not drawing blood. Dean licks the sore spot, letting a small amount of saliva fall down and meet with Sam’s shirt. Darkening it when wet hits dry.

The shirt draws Sam’s attention and he realizes this whole thing would go a lot smoother without clothes.

“Clothes…” Sam moans when Dean’s tongue swept to the other side of his neck.

“Hmm?” Dean’s hands are sliding down Sam’s hips; his thumbs are circling and messaging his skin. And for some reason, that feels really good. Sam shivers.

“Clothes… We need to… take them off,” he says between pants.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean’s thumbs stop their motion. For a moment Sam misses it until Dean’s fingers are lifting up his shirt, pulling it over his head. When Sam is free of his shirt, he sinks back into another needy kiss as Dean plays with his belt buckle.

Sam notices Dean’s fingers shake slightly when he tries to free him of his belt, it is slight, but they shake. Sam takes a second to deepen the kiss, then draws back and licks his lips tasting Dean on them.

These kisses are nothing like the ones when they weren’t in their own bodies. These are much more passionate and possessing.

Sam helps Dean unbuckle his belt and slip out of his shoes and socks, and his pants fall down around his ankles. Dean wastes no time taking off his own clothes and throwing them against the wall with a soft thud. Shoes, socks and pants are gone before Sam can blink.

Both are now bare except for their boxer’s.

Sam lets a moment for this to _really_ sink in, and then he is back to kissing Dean with a fevered passion.

\---

Dean plays at the top of Sam’s boxer’s and reaches up and lowers Sam so he can whisper in his ear, “You know, I used to _‘accidentally’_ watch you change.”

Sam shivers against him and breathes into Dean’s own ear, “I doubt it was accidental.”

“No, you’re probably right.” Dean pushes his hand through the thin material and feels hard flesh hit his hand. He’s own cock gives twitch when he feels pre-come slide down his hand.

“Dean…” Sam arches up into Dean’s hand; doing anything he can do to feel friction. “Oh… God.”

Dean feels himself vibrate when he moans against Sam’s chest. Then he begins thrusting his hand where Sam needs it. Slow motions at first, driving the other man crazy, then faster and he feels Sam’s cock begin to swell against. He knows Sam is getting close, and he knows he had to stop before Sam comes or this would end quicker then he wanted. He squeezes one time and lets his hand out of the boxers.

Sam grunts in protest, but Dean has bigger plans.

Dean backs Sam against the bed and Sam’s knees buckle when Dean pushes him down. Sam bounces momentarily as the mattress squeal beneath him. Dean eyes linger over Sam’s long torso and Dean looks into eyes that are filled with want, pupils nearly fully dilated. He goes to grab the lube out of the duffel back, before his mind can short-circuit.

He comes back within a second and practically rips off Sam’s boxers. Sam’s cock springs to life in front of him. He grins.

“Dean, god, just… hurry up…” Sam says impatiently as he squirms on the bed.

“I think this requires me to be slow, actually.” Dean pours the contents of the lube onto his hand and rubs his fingers together. He leans over Sam and plays with his nipple, biting on it and rolling his tongue over the hardening flesh. Sam arches up slowly in a gasp as Dean pushes a finger into the tight muscle. Dean waits for Sam to relax before he inches in deeper. The lube is working wonders, making the slip of the second finger go in without protest.

Dean trails his tongue down lower, stopping short of the navel, and then he eyes the twitching flesh with need. He licks the top of the head before taking it deep within his mouth. He hooks his fingers up at the same time, hitting a particular set of nerves that leaves Sam gasping and begging for more.

It's the broken “O-Oh” that has Dean moving faster, licking one last time at Sam’s cock, and pulling out his fingers. He pushes his own boxers off, and feels the cool air touch his cock before he is aligned with Sam.

The slow motion has Dean panting as he pushes in. The lube has done a good job of opening up Sam’s entrance, and he feels himself sink easily into the tight muscle.

Carefully he begins thrusting. Sam seems to mimic when his hips begin to move in sync with Dean’s motions. Slowly Dean can feel the heat cradle in him at the base of his stomach. Fire licks him as he pushes faster into Sam.

Sam. His Sam.

The thought has him on the edge and he knows he won't last much longer. He takes Sam’s leg and moves it up to land on Dean’s shoulder, to gives the angle that he needs to send Sam over the edge as well.

He knows he hits the spot when Sam buckles, then arches beneath him in pants that are broken.

“Dean… oh God… Dean, I can’t…” Dean grabs Sam’s cock and pulls once to help Sam through his orgasm. Muscles twitch around his own member, and that is all it takes for him to pound one last time into Sam and he is shooting into him with thick white-hot jets.

Dean lets himself drown in the pleasure and slowly comes back down from the high of his orgasm.

Sam apparently is doing the same, and with one last tender kiss Dean pulls out of Sam and he watches as his own come slides down Sam’s thigh.

Dean’s cock does a little twitch even though he is well spent.

“Dean…” Sam breathes heavily on the bed.

He looks at Sam before he grins and lands beside him on the bed.

And even though it is still morning, he finds himself drifting asleep.

This time, not due to a witches curse, or his head hitting pavement.

That, he thinks, is a good sign.

\---

Not long after they wake up, they find themselves sitting at the small table in the motel. Sam's drinking a frappuccino that had Dean glaring at the girly drink. Dean has his own cup of black coffee, the only way to drink coffee, thankyouverymuch.

“So, what do you think broke the curse?” Sam says as he gulps down some of his drink.

“I’m not sure. Cas said the spell is ‘soul deep,’ whatever that means.”

“Wait, you talked to Cas?”

“Yeah, when I marched off after your hissy fit.” Sam gives a bitch-face at that but Dean continues, “He came for something, but apparently it wasn’t important. Anyway, he noticed the spell and said that.”

“Huh.”

“Yup.” Dean shrugs.

“I think I know what he meant.” Sam eyes Dean as he takes another sip.

“Enlighten me.”

Sam seems to contemplate that then says, “Nah, you’ll figure it out.”

 

\--

For one small brief second, so very short it is nearly non-existent, Dean feels a wave of… gratitude towards the witch. For once, maybe it doesn't _always_ end badly.

But that's not gonna stop him from hating witches. Not by a long shot.


End file.
